


Who They Are

by ElusiveDelirium



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Aid, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Tags Are Hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 15:10:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15294177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElusiveDelirium/pseuds/ElusiveDelirium
Summary: Dean can’t recall why or how he let the events of the day get to him the way he did, but it happened. He thinks he should be embarrassed by it, but he's not. Not really. He figures he'll have to actually talk to Cas about it eventually, but he won't. Not if he can help it. That's just not who he is.





	Who They Are

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [To You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8717293) by [LoversAntiquities](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoversAntiquities/pseuds/LoversAntiquities). 



> There’s one line in a work called To You by @LoversAntiques that I loved so much, I wrote a little story around it.  
> The line is “You need a distraction, and I need to touch you.”  
> I find my inspiration where I can. :o)
> 
> Enjoy

Dean can’t recall why or how he let the events of the day get to him the way he did, but it happened. He thinks he should be embarrassed by it, but he's not. Not really. He figures he'll have to actually talk to Cas about it eventually, but he won't. Not if he can help it. That's just not who he is. 

\------------------------------------

The fight had been brutal. They'd grossly underestimated the size and strength of the pack and all three of them had ended up taking a pretty bad beating. Some worse than others, as always. None of them are entirely sure how they let it all go wrong. They're normally so on top of it, so well prepared. 

They pull up to a motel just outside of Truth or Consequences, New Mexico and Dean heads over to the office to check them in while Sam and Cas grab their gear out of the trunk. They move slowly, painfully dragging themselves along. Sam’s limping a bit. Dean will have to remember to check on that later. 

Sam hits the bed hard once they finally get in the room and Dean's inclined to leave him be. Sam’s scrapes and bruises could wait till morning and he needs the rest. He'd barely toed his shoes off and thrown off his jacket before diving under the covers, ignoring the weird smell and burying himself in deep under the itchy blankets. Dean does bring him a glass of water and some ibuprofen though. Sam's going to ache in the morning - might as well try and get ahead of it.

They've found themselves in another random motel on the side of another forgotten highway with a nondescript name and an always-offensive color scheme and weird smell. It's the same hotel room they've been in a thousand times before, whether it's here or Flagstaff or Buckner, Kentucky or literally anywhere in Montana or Kansas or...well, you get the gist. They've all become one in memory - hard to distinguish and wholly forgettable. 

This particular motel only has adjoining rooms available with one of those doors separating them on the inside, each with a queen sized bed. Dean doesn't even have it in him to feign annoyance at having to share a bed. That and Sam's inability to stay conscious pretty easily dictates how the rooms will be split, as if it'd really be a question anyway. 

 

He's been standing by the bed, staring at the darkened window across the room for what feels like just a minute or a lifetime when he's brought back to the present by the sound of Cas tossing his belt to the floor, undressing so he can examine his own wounds. He's down to his boxers and an undershirt and in the dim light, Dean thinks he looks so small. He's lost some weight since becoming human and losing his powers. Just more evidence of Dean’s failure and inability to save those he cares about.

This is one of those nights where Dean could easily drown himself in a bottle until he passes out, a dreamless sleep the only respite from his thoughts. He's so tired of seeing Sam hurt and bleeding, of seeing Cas fall while fighting then watching him as he levels himself with guilt for not being able to do more - his grace a thing of the past, the shadow of it constantly hanging over his head - something that used to be but no longer is. He's tired of getting himself beat up and bleeding and never having enough time to properly heal before they're off again to God knows where to save the world. Again. There are no bottles to be found though, and no comfort to seek in them.

Cas walks over to him and takes him by the arm, guiding him to the bed. Cas pushes Dean’s flannel shirt off his shoulders and down his arms, tossing it in the corner. It's garbage now anyway - too many rips and gashes to bother fixing. Dean’s picked up on what's happening and kicks off his shoes. His jeans are next and he tosses them over to a chair in the corner of the room.

“Sit.” Cas says and points to the bed. Dean sighs and sits on the edge. 

Cas kneels down in front of him to start the arduous process of bandaging him up. Dean’s got a few cuts on his knees, but nothing major. It just looks as though he landed hard on them at some point, but they don't look too bad. He only cleans them, no need to bandage. 

He raises Dean's shirt as slowly and delicately as he can, trying to avoid hurting him any worse than he already is because this is where most of the damage has been done. There are superficial cuts and bruises on his chest, a few on his stomach and even more evidence of the bashing he took on his arms and the left side of his face. His back is what's taken the worst of the injuries though and Dean starts just a bit when Cas leans around him and gingerly runs his fingers around the biggest gash, still oozing and looking angry. It’ll need stitches. 

Cas closes his eyes and sighs as he takes it in. Sometimes he forgets that he can't heal anymore, but it never stops him from trying because seeing Dean like this hurts him worse than any battle scar. Knowing that he can do almost nothing to fix him is a feeling he wishes he could forget. Dean appreciates that he still tries though, even if he doesn't say it. Appreciates that after everything they've been through and the years of shit they've been through together - good or bad - Cas is still just...his Cas.

The not so simple truth is that everything Cas has ever done has been done out of a desire to help, to fix - whether it's actually in his power to do so or not. As misguided as he can often be, he tries. It's just who he is.

He tries now to fix Dean, as he can. He begins to trace his fingers over each bruise, each cut and each mark so lightly that Dean almost could have missed a few touches if he wasn't suddenly hyper aware of each sensation.

Cas drags his fingertips along his skin around his back and then up to Deans left arm, mapping the outlines of his cuts and bruises up to his shoulder then down to his chest. Dean's breath catches as he notices that Cas has begun whispering words that sound like prayer under his breath. Dean’s not sure, but he thinks it’s Enochian. 

Cas is carefully inching his way down Dean's side, brushing over ribs and stomach. He slowly starts feeling his way back up the other side and guides his hand to the center of Dean's chest, where he pauses and holds his hand steady, right over his heart and Dean’s breath catches. Cas looks up at him then, but Dean can't bring himself to look up and meet his gaze, so he continues to work his way up to his collar bone then up to his neck. He stops there and looks up at Dean again, this time lowering himself until his face is right in front of Dean's, forcing the eye contact he craves.

He brushes Dean's cheek with delicate fingers, rubbing his thumb over his cheekbone and then down to trace the cut on Dean's lip. He's stopped mouthing his prayers now and Dean watches as Cas looks down and lets his thumb ghost over Dean's lips once, then twice, pausing momentarily to lick his own lips. He pulls himself up to full height on his knees and looks up to meet Dean’s eyes again. This is how Cas needs to heal, he thinks. He's got his own wounds, but he's not worried about them needing first aid. They'll get better in time. What he needs now is something holy and new. He needs this. 

“Cas…” Dean says, with a low and wrecked voice.

“You need a distraction, and I need to touch you,” Cas replies.

Cas is leaning forward, so slowly, a hand still on Dean's cheek. The look on Dean's face is something Cas is completely unaccustomed to seeing on him. He's never looked at him like this before and Cas doesn’t know how to handle it. The twist in his stomach is confusing to him. He's not sure if it's lust or love or pain or joy, but he wants more of it.

They're slowly moving closer, neither one of them breathing as their eyes search. Dean’s eyes dart back and forth while Castiel’s remain steady. Dean reaches up and places a hand on Cas' side, the other one reaching up for his face. Cas' fingers are back on Dean's lips, then Dean's eyes drop to watch Cas' lips and his eyelids start lowering so, so slowly. They lean closer and closer just inches apart now. They can feel each others breath on their lips, warm and lush. If Dean were to lick his own lips, he's sure he would taste Castiel's as well. Cas sighs, ready for the contact, mouth open so slightly, like an invitation.

Then, in the other room, Sam coughs and rolls over in his bed and just as suddenly as it began, the tension is broken. Dean pulls back, dropping his hands, while Cas quickly drops his own and they both turn their heads to look towards the open doorway.

It's a false alarm, but the moment is gone. Cas turns back to look at Dean, but he's sitting further back on the bed now, elbows on his knees and looking away from Cas with his eyes closed. So Cas sighs, stands and walks over to find the first aid kit in Dean's duffle. The cleanup job still needing to be done.

He slowly and methodically begins the arduous task of patching Dean up. He takes his time, makes sure every scratch is cleaned meticulously before covering it. They'll need to re-stock the first aid kit because Dean's wounds have taken up so much of their supply. 

He has Dean lay down on his stomach as he sets to work on stitching the gash on his back. Cas steps away for a moment then and goes to get something. When he returns, Dean can see he's grabbed his phone and is fiddling with it. He places the phone face down on the nightstand as Wild Horses starts playing through the tiny speaker. 

"Rolling Stones fan, huh?" Dean asks.

"Shhhh." Is the only reply he gets as Cas goes back to the task at hand. 

Laying there in the dark while Cas tries his best to piece him back together, listening to the words Mick pours out through the speakers, his mind replays what just happened between them and it’s proving to be too much for him. Dean has to turn his head away as he starts to feel that familiar burning sensation behind his eyes. He doesn't cry much, not anymore, but right now he feels it's ok. 

The song ends and he lays there in silence, Cas is still working away, when the next song comes on. Hallelujah this time. Figures. Any other time Dean would reach over, turn it off and leave the room. Not tonight though. He remains where he is and the tears start running in earnest. 

Cas has stopped his work and is watching Dean as his shoulders start shaking in an effort to stop the tears. He stands and walks over to the other side of the bed to look at Dean. He takes him by the hand and pulls, an obvious attempt to get him upright. 

It takes a few painful moments, but he finally stands and faces his angel. Cas places a hand on Dean's cheek and wipes away some of the tears. He pulls Dean in with his other hand and Dean goes willingly. He lowers his head to rest on Cas' shoulder and places his hands on his waist then slowly wraps them around him. Cas places one hand on the back on Dean's head and gently starts running his fingers through his hair. The gesture of comfort simple yet overwhelming. His other hand now on his shoulder blade in an effort to pull him closer without touching any of his wounds. 

 

Dean clears his throat a few times before attempting speech, finally able to grate out only a simple “I'm sorry. I don't um...I....”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Cas replies, pulling him in closer.

He knows Dean has more he wants to say, but that's just not his style. He's mastered the art of shoving feelings down, pretending they don't exist for as long as possible before they explode out of him. Normally it's in anger, but apparently sometimes it comes out like this. Dean’s raw and exposed and Cas won't push him any further than he's willing to offer. 

They stand there like that for a little while longer, through another song, holding each other until Dean’s realized that this must be awkward. He swipes a hand over his eyes and pulls back and turns towards the bed. Cas drops his hands and steps back. 

Tomorrow will be another day, another chance to ignore what’s just happened between them, another chance to find another case and roll along like it's all ok. That's what they do, who they are. Everything’s always ok and nothing hurts.

For now, though, they go about their usual bed routine. Cas heads to the bathroom first to tidy himself up. A quick, hot shower helping to clean off his scrapes and scratches and calm his nerves. He steps out of the bathroom and he and Dean move around each other like usual - constantly aware of each other's presence, close but not quite touching. 

Dean climbs into bed and tries to situate himself without undoing all of the work that went into his stitches. He ends up on his stomach again, but favoring his left side. Cas is now laying on his back and has one hand behind his head and one on his chest. He turns his head to look at Dean who is watching him silently. Looking back up towards the ceiling, he reaches out and pulls Dean's hand to rest under his own on his chest and closes his eyes. 

“Sleep now, Dean.” He says.

Dean closes his eyes and tries his best.

\--------------------------------

Sam is the first to wake up the next morning. Still stiff and in more than a little bit of pain, he gets up and heads off to take a shower. He pops his head in to check in on Dean and Cas first though and finds them in bed almost the same way they fell asleep - hands still clasped together. Cas has scooted over a bit and snuggled up underneath Dean in such a way that he could almost get away with saying he was just helping to keep propped Dean on his side, but Sam knows they're really just snuggling.

He watches them for a few moments and then heads back into his own room. He thinks about whether he’ll breach this subject with Dean, but he knows he's just going to have to let it go. He knows Dean and knows he’ll refuse to talk about it. He's happy for them though. They deserve this, whatever it is. 

He gets showered then dressed and heads back in to wake the other two, but can't bring himself to do it. He's sure sleep has been difficult for the both of them so he’ll just let them have this and rest for as long as they can. Dean’s always the one trying to take care of him, but today he thinks he'd like to try and take care of Dean instead. Dean won't know and it doesn't seem like much, but this is how he'll help his brother, by just leaving him be. It is what he always wants - to help. It's just who he is.


End file.
